Blood from a Stone: A Commissario Guido Brunetti Mystery

Blood from a Stone: A Commissario Guido Brunetti Mystery

Donna Leon

Language: English

Pages: 304

ISBN: 0802146031

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

"Commissario Guido Brunetti's fourteenth case may be his best yet." –Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

On a cold Venetian night shortly before Christmas, a street vendor is killed in a scuffle in Campo San Stefano. The closest witnesses to the event are the tourists who had been browsing the fake designer handbags that the man was selling. The dead man is one of the many African immigrants purveying goods outside normal shop hours and trading without a work permit. Like everybody involved, Commissario Brunetti wonders why anyone would kill an illegal immigrant. But once Brunetti begins to investigate this unfamiliar Venetian underworld, he discovers that matters of great value are at stake within the secretive society. Warned by Patta, his superior, to resist further involvement in the case, Brunetti only becomes more determined to unearth the truth behind this mysterious killing. Reluctant as he is to let this event be smugly relegated to the category of "not worth dealing with," how far will Brunetti be able to penetrate the murky subculture in this illegal community? Blood from a Stone is an exquisite and irresistible mystery offering an unexpected take on life in contemporary Venice.

"A subtle and sophisticated mystery"–New York Times

"Stunning... Leon combines an engrossing, complex plot with an indictment fo the corruption endemic in Italian society." –Publishers Weekly (starred review)

"Richly atmospheric, Leon introduces you to the Venice insiders know." –USA Today

"The evocative Venitian setting and the warmth and humanity of the Brunetti family add considerable pleasure to this nuanced, intelligent mystery; another winner from Venice-based Leon. Highly recommended" –Library Journal (starred review)

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able to tell, his glass had been wiped as an act of respect, not of necessity. For a long time, none of them spoke, and then the young man in the too-big jeans said something. No one else said a word, and so he went on, his voice growing more heated as he spoke. At one point, he raised his left hand and pointed at Brunetti and Vianello while he said something that could have been ‘police’, but the word was buried in a long sentence that went on for some time and then ended abruptly on an angry

will not explain, but I want you to trust me when I tell you it’s true.’ Instantly Brunetti thought of a conundrum proposed by his professor of logic: if a person who always lies tells you he is lying, is he telling you the truth or is he lying? Years had passed and he could no longer remember the correct answer, but Patta’s remarks sounded suspiciously similar. He remained silent. ‘We have to leave this alone,’ Patta finally said. When it was obvious that he was going to say no more, Brunetti

knew she would be pleased to be able to tell him it was the Ministry of the Interior, so he asked only, ‘Who was it?’ ‘Il Ministero degli Esteri.’ ‘The Foreign Ministry?’ he asked, unable to disguise his surprise. ‘Yes.’ Then, before he could ask, she added, ‘I’m sure.’ Brunetti’s imagination, already halfway up the steps of the Ministry of the Interior, had to hopscotch across the city to an entirely different building, and the mental list of possibilities he had prepared had to be tossed

come in, for Paola called out a greeting as he went down the corridor to the kitchen. When he entered, shoeless, he found a stranger at his table: a young girl sat in Raffi’s place. She got to her feet as he came into the kitchen. Chiara said, ‘This is my friend, Azir Mahani.’ ‘Hello,’ Brunetti said and put out his hand. The girl looked at him, at his hand, and then at Chiara, who said, ‘Shake his hand, silly. He’s my father.’ The girl leaned forward, but she did so stiffly, and put out her

answered gruffly. ‘Good morning, Commissario,’ Signorina Elettra said. ‘Sorry,’ he said automatically. ‘I’ve had too much coffee.’ ‘Apparently so has the Vice-Questore.’ ‘Excuse me?’ ‘He’s quite ebullient, if that’s the proper word to describe his behaviour. And he wants to see you.’ ‘I’ll come down,’ Brunetti said, entranced by the idea of what form an ebullient Patta would take. It took the form, he saw when he entered Patta’s office a few minutes later, of a broad smile in which

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